


Double Crossed

by horselizard



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Bodyswap, Crossdressing, Forced Feminization, Gen, Genderswap, Humiliation, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 20:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horselizard/pseuds/horselizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rimmer should have learned by now that when Holly lets him borrow Kochanski's body, it's unlikely to end well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double Crossed

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to the RD Tumblr fandom, on whom I place the blame for this entirely.

Rimmer was sat on the floor in a dark, secluded corner of the diesel decks, his arms wrapped round his bent legs, and his head between his knees. He had been in this position for quite some time. Every now and again, he would moan softly to himself.

“I told you that was a bad idea, Arn.”

“Smeg _off!_ ”

“Well, I can’t technically. I mean, I’m sort of everywhere on board. I could _pretend_ I’d smegged off, but I’d still be, basically, in philosophical terms, y’know, here.”

“Smeg. Off.”

“I mean, it did backfire a bit, didn’t it?”

“It did not _back_ fire! _You_ fired it! At me! If anything, it was _front_ fired. _You_ frontfired it. Back. At me.”

“I don’t think the OED’s accepting new submissions any more these days, Arn.”

“You’re a goit. A total goit. If anyone _else_ wants help with their practical jokes, you jump at the chance, don’t you? But me? No, the laugh has to come at _my_ expense!”

Rimmer fumed. It had been a damn good joke, too. He had done his research this time - better than before, when he’d only had a few minutes to throw together his plan and order Holly’s compliance. Long, dull hours broken up with sneaking looks at Lister’s diary had planted the idea in his head. And finally, one night when Lister’s buzzsaw snoring had brought him to the limit of his patience, he had snuck out to a nearby bunkroom, outlined his plan to Holly, and got him to begrudgingly agree that, yes, it would be “a laugh”.

The last time he’d assumed Kochanski’s form, he’d been desperately focused on the task in hand, and so he hadn’t paid much attention to the peculiarity of suddenly inhabiting a female body - apart from the disconcerting effect the height differential was having on his sense of perspective. But this time, with the body in question clad in a pretty close approximation of the skimpy little number Lister used to keep at the back of his closet, for the benefit of non-roleplay-averse girlfriends, it was difficult _not_ to notice its... special features.

He had spent quite some time parading up and down in the empty bunkroom, ostensibly so as to get the measure of the four-inch heels on the shiny black knee-high boots. But, secretly, he was also stealing repeated glances at himself in the mirror. It wasn’t often you got a tiny, curvy little minx doing a private show for you in a borderline-obscene variant on the theme of a nurse’s uniform. The lace-trimmed, puff-sleeved blue minidress scooped down low over her pert bosom, the wide strings of the stylised white apron cinching in her trim waist. It frilled out into a perky little flare of a skirt mere centimetres past her lace-clad crotch, revealing acres of suspender and stocking-top and smooth, bare thigh.

And, to tell the truth, he had rather been enjoying how it felt, too: soft, sensitive breasts jiggling past each other, the feather-light touch of silk against his legs, and... well. He was too shy to even _think_ about what he had beneath his panties, but it certainly felt like it was happy with this turn of events. All perfectly natural, he’d told himself as he clacked back and forth; what red-blooded male _wouldn’t_ enjoy being able to not only watch a sexy girl, but also touch her all over at the same time?

Rimmer tried desperately to cling to _that_ memory, those pleasant moments which by rights ought to have provided him with wank-fodder for months afterwards... but his thoughts kept spooling unstoppably on, on towards his moment of triumph, and then, inevitably, beyond it.

He’d felt so smug as the lights had come up dimmed, and Lister had stirred, bleary-eyed, to see the love of his life standing smiling by the bunks, dressed to the smallest detail in his number one fetish outfit of choice. He tried, God, how he tried, to remember the stupid things Lister had said in his half-asleep state, the blackmail gold he’d blurted out while blind optimism and futile hope were still in a position to win out over logic, the way his stupid hamsterish face had fallen as he took in the H on the apparition’s forehead and the truth had started slowly, painfully clunking into place. He tried to revel in having made a fool of Lister. But all it did was remind him what a fool he’d then made of himself.

“Look, Arn, you can hardly blame _me_. I only did what you asked.”

“You knew very smegging well what I meant!” Rimmer snapped at the disembodied voice, his cheeks flaming. “You did it on purpose. Maliciously, and with intent to make me look ridiculous.”

“Well, I wasn’t to know you were going to make such a song and dance of it.”

Rimmer groaned. Hollow, colourless victory flashed before his eyes: him doubling up Kochanski’s slight little frame with helpless laughter; Lister turning first pale with horror and then flushed with fury; the delicious knowledge that some little part of the goit’s brain couldn’t help seeing it as _Kochanski_ mocking him, humiliating him, laughing in his face; the way that thought had made him laugh even harder. It was no good. It was fading fast. What was etched into his mind forever, in glorious technicolour and five-speaker surround sound and stomach-churningly realistic mortification-o-vision, was what had happened next.

 

_“Oh, Listy! What a complete smeghead you are! I cannot believe you fell for that...”_

_“You know what? I **can** believe you’d **do** that. You’re a bastard, Rimmer. Now get out of her body.”_

_“The look on your face! The rubbish you were spouting! Oh, that was priceless, it really was.”_

_“I said get **out** of her body! It’s not yours to smegging well play with.”_

_“Oh, stop making such a fuss. You’re just upset because I got one over on you. Well, you’re just going to have to live with it, matey!”_

_“Fine, if you’re not going to get out of her body, then get the hell out of this room. I want to sleep.”_

_“One-nil to Rimsy!”_

_“Rimmer, I have no objection to you crossdressing, but don’t do it on my time.”_

_“Crossdressing? I resent that implication! This is **appropriate** dressing! It doesn’t count as crossdressing if you’re in a woman’s body.”_

_“Right, yeah. If you’ve given yourself a woman’s body first, it’s something else entirely.”_

_“Lister, I am **not** one of those... gender-bending... weirdos!”_

_“One of those **what**?”_

_“Oh, don’t you start, Holly.”_

_“So let me get this straight, Rimmer: you think gender-variant people are weirdos, but you’re quite happy to borrow someone else’s tits for a practical joke.”_

_“Then walk up and down for ten minutes watching them jiggle.”_

_“Holly!”_

_“You were what? Rimmer, man, you’ve got problems.”_

_“I was not! I was getting used to the shoes. Because, you simple-minded gimboid, I am not the sort of man who’s had practice walking in high heels, whatever you might like to think.”_

_“Right, fine. I’m sure you wouldn’t be seen dead in them.”_

_“Watch it, squire.”_

_“Nah, man, I believe you. You’re way too secure in your masculinity to ever experiment with that kinda stuff.”_

_“Exactly! And, just to remove any lingering doubts on that score, I won’t spend a moment longer in this body. So there. Holly, swap disks.”_

 

Rimmer screwed his eyes shut and tried to block out the memory. It was just too hideous. But the mental image kept returning unbidden. Lister’s expression changing, in a heartbeat, from weary irritability to disbelieving hysterics. His own reaction, first one of contemptuous bewilderment at Lister’s guffawing, then one of utter horror as he looked down at himself...

A Rimmer-sized version of the nurse’s outfit was stretched tight across his broad chest, the apron strings pinching it in at his scrawny waist. The minidress was barely covering the fact that his genitalia had been returned to him precariously tucked inside skimpy lace panties. Black filigree suspenders traced a path down his pale upper thighs, drawing the eye to his long, lanky legs indecently sheathed in sheer silk stockings and fuck-me-boots.

For a few seconds, he had just stood there, paralysed with shock, as Lister laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Oh, the shame of it! What a preposterous sight he had looked - his pasty, skinny frame on full display in too-revealing clothes trying their best to be sexy. Frills, lace, silk... all of it clinging tightly to the unprepossessing contours of his weedy male body. He shuddered. But the worst was yet to come.

 

_“Best not stay dressed up like that for too long, Rimmer! It might turn you gay! Can’t be too careful, can you?”_

_“Holly! **Holly!** Change me back! No - no, wait, don’t change me **back**... I mean... oh, smegging hell!”_

 

He cringed at the recollection of his frantic, fruitless panic, his face growing redder and redder as he'd instinctively folded in on himself, one hand protectively over his crotch, the other tugging in vain at the hem of his dress, trying hopelessly to shield himself from view. There had been only one thing for it, a solution which had served him so well in numerous awkward situations in the past: run away.

But as he had turned tail, he had been too flustered to consider what a delicate operation this would be in four-inch heels. He had only got a few steps before he’d stumbled, tripped over himself, and pitched headlong through the doorway. The heavy landing had caused the minidress to ride up - only by a few centimetres, but a few centimetres were all that was needed.

Rimmer groaned as he relived that horrible, humiliating moment. Lying there sprawled across the bunkroom floor, he had known exactly what Lister was seeing, because he’d seen it himself, on Kochanski’s body, not ten minutes before. The briefest of black lacy briefs, exposing vast expanses of buttock, the black suspenders stretched across them serving only to highlight how much was laid bare...

At that, Holly had finally taken pity on him (and, perhaps, Lister too), and - after a few long, painful seconds of stunned silence - had given him his proper uniform back. He’d scrambled to his feet and scurried away as fast as he could. He didn’t know when he’d dare show his face in the bunkroom again.

“I’ll be a laughing stock,” he moaned to himself, rocking gently.

“Yeah, you did overreact a bit.”

“My life couldn’t possibly get any worse.”

“If you say so, Arn.”

“I looked like a complete fool!”

“The lipstick suited you, though.”

Rimmer stopped mid-rock. The colour slowly drained from his face.

“L... l... lipstick?!”

“And the mascara, too. You’ve got nice eyelashes. Didn’t really need the blusher, though.”

“You mean... I was _still... wearing... Kochanski’s... makeup?_ ”

“Well, yeah. What else did you expect?”

Rimmer stared blankly ahead, shellshocked, unable to stop himself mentally revising his idea of how he must have looked standing in front of Lister. High-heeled knee boots curving snugly over his calves... black silk stockings and lace suspenders stretching up his thighs... an obscenely short, tight, low-cut minidress leaving very little to the imagination... and his face startlingly, ludicrously feminised with full temptress makeup. Completely crossdressed...

He turned to the wall, hoping that if his projection wouldn’t let him pass through it, it would let the impact hurt, and started rhythmically thumping his head against it.

“I’ll smeg off, shall I? I can see I’m not helping you feel any better.”

Rimmer didn’t reply. He just continued banging his head soundlessly against the metal wall. So Holly left him to it, and silence descended once more upon the almost-deserted diesel decks.


End file.
